


The Sight of The Stars (makes me dream)

by Buildyourwalls



Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Boyfriends, Established Relationship, Hand Jobs, Kim Hongjoong is Whipped, M/M, Oral Sex, Park Seonghwa is Whipped, Semi-Public Sex, Soft Kim Hongjoong, Soft Park Seonghwa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-25
Updated: 2021-02-25
Packaged: 2021-03-16 01:20:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29692830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Buildyourwalls/pseuds/Buildyourwalls
Summary: They’ve learned to be quick. They’ve learned in the last few months that even though they wish they could stretch this out, there’s never enough time. There’s never enough daylight, never enough evenings.And even in those few shared hasty moments, Hongjoong looks at Seonghwa and thinks he’s made of the best stardust the universe has ever created.(Basically established Seongjoong during the pandemic)
Relationships: Kim Hongjoong/Park Seonghwa
Comments: 2
Kudos: 79





	The Sight of The Stars (makes me dream)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TacoChelle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TacoChelle/gifts).



> Thanks to **tacochelle** for the love and handclaps and letting me be Woo-Loud. Also, I just feel super bad for these kids because they were moving up in the career and the world was on fire. Sometimes literally.

**For my part,**  
**I know nothing with any certainty,**  
**But the sight of the stars makes me dream  
**—Vincent Van Gogh** **

* 

The day the pandemic becomes worldwide news, when everyone’s lives are put on hold, all Hongjoong thinks is, _will this be the end?_

Not to civilization. But to his group. To Atiny. To tours. 

To Ateez’s future. 

He’s only twenty-two, and there’s an entire life ahead of him, and yet he feels, so, so, old. He’s invited to meetings to discuss what to do, about how KQ has to cancel tours until further notice, meetings about how to reach out to fans, meetings about keeping up with their dance schedule, and diets. They have meetings about awards shows they’ll play to empty rooms, to fan meets they’ll do virtually.

They meet, and meet, and meet, and Hongjoong returns to the dorms exhausted, his bones aching. 

He doesn’t say anything those days, stumbles to his room and lays down flat on his stomach and buries his face into his pillow. He can hear the rest of the guys in the dorm, listens to their voices rumble through the bedroom door, over the clatter of his brain screaming, _what the actual fuck are we going to do?_

Hongjoong doesn’t know what they’re going to do. There’s so much uncertainty, and they’re still new to their career. They have so much they want to achieve—number one on the Billboard Charts; performing their first stadium tour; receiving their first Daesang.

Their first Grammy. 

So many potential firsts all put on pause because of this. Because no one knows what the fuck is going to happen, and Hongjoong may have to tell the rest of the guys, kids not much younger than him, that no one knows how long they will be in this continuous limbo. 

The door creaks open. Whatever is being cooked in the kitchen is fragrant and thick in the air, and Hongjoong’s stomach growls, even though he has no desire to eat. The bed dips, and he feels a hand on his lower back, soft and warm, and perfect. 

“Bad day?” Seonghwa asks. Hongjoong flips onto his back and places both of his hands over his face. He scrubs at his skin, hard and aggressive until it burns. 

“Yes,” Hongjoong says, too weary to skirt around it.

Seonghwa hums, and then the bed squeaks, and he’s tugging on Hongjoong’s arms, revealing his perfect face. His eyes are open and inviting, and beautiful, and Hongjoong collapses onto Seonghwa’s chest. Seonghwa’s powerful arms wrap around him, their legs slotting together, and that’s when the tears come. 

“I don’t know what to do,” Hongjoong says, screwing his eyes shut. No one else sees him like this, and no one else will. But Seonghwa knows. He understands, and when his lips brush over Hongjoon’s forehead, a whisper of a kiss, Hongjoong sighs. 

“We’ll figure it out,” Seonghwa says tenderly, his voice a little shaky. Hongjoong sniffs and turns up to Seonghwa, caresses their lips in invitation. Seonghwa doesn’t fight it. His breath is hot on Hongjoong’s mouth, his lips so, so, soft. Hongjoong wants to get lost in him forever. 

The kiss starts sweet, and slow, but then Seonghwa flips Hongjoong onto his back, grips at his shirt and pushes it up to his armpits. Seonghwa’s hands are all over Hongjoong’s skin, nails biting, fingers exploring, and when he pushes his thigh between Hongjoong’s and presses down, Hongjoong groans.

“Fuck, they’ll hear us,” Hongjoong says, gasping when Seonghwa sucks on his neck. Hongjoong doesn’t even bother to say anything about marks because who the hell is going to see them, anyway? 

They’ve learned to be quick. They’ve learned in the last few months that even though they wish they could stretch this out, there’s never enough time. There’s never enough daylight, never enough evenings. 

And even in those few shared hasty moments, Hongjoong looks at Seonghwa and thinks he’s made of the best stardust the universe has ever created. 

“It’s not like they don’t know,” Seonghwa says, nibbling right on Hongjoong’s hammering pulse. His fingers are quick on Hongjoong’s jeans, his palm slipping inside and gripping at Hongjoong tight. 

Hongjoong’s hips buck in response. When he speaks, his voice is raspy, trembling. “But—”

“Hongjoong,” Seonghwa says, and lifts himself up on his arms. His hair is a mess already from Hongjoong’s hands, his cheeks flushed, but his eyes are bright. “Let me take care of you, okay?” 

Hongjooong nods and lets Seonghwa take care of him. 

* 

They learn to work with it. Kind of. 

Promotion happens. They practice. They’re told to do more Vlives to connect with fans. They plan to film something during summertime in protected environments where the crew and everyone’s tested before filming. 

But between it all, they have a lot of free time. 

Some of the guys decide to visit family. Some of them take longer time away than others because the unease is too much to handle. They’re used to going until they collapse with exhaustion, and now they have too much energy, and not enough ways to burn it off.

Seonghwa doesn’t go anywhere. He’s right here with Hongjoong in their dorm room, kissing a fiery trail down Hongjoong’s stomach. 

Hongjoong’s hands in Seonghwa’s silky soft hair. He doesn’t have any product in it, and Hongjoong loves it like this, loves it most when he can tangle his fingers at the root and tug and pull at his mercy. Seonghwa loves it too, growls and moans, bites harder on Hongjoong’s hip bone when Hongjoong gets him good. 

It’s been another bad day. Another day where Hongjoong doesn’t know what the hell to do. He feels restless, and unsure, and small. He wonders sometimes if he’s made a mistake. He wonders if he’ll live to say he’s done everything he’s wanted to do with Ateez. 

Those fears dissolve from Hongjoong’s mind when Seonghwa’s mouth wraps around his dick, a hot slide on Seonghwa’s tongue to the back of his throat. Hongjoong gasps, bites into his fist, and Seonghwa moans in return. When his dark eyes connect with Hongjoong, mouth full, Hongjoong’s world tilts on its axis.

Later that night, Hongjoong is filled with inspiration. He writes melodies and harmonies. He’s always written songs about Seonghwa, ones that he leaves under Seonghwa’s pillow, tiny notes that say things like _waking to a new dawn with you casts away illusions_ , and Seonghwa saves them, places them in a sacred place for himself. 

It makes Hongjoong want to write more, and later that night, with Seonghwa asleep next to him on his bed, with his arm heavy over his lap, he does. He writes all of his heart into his journal, words that flow through him and to his fingertips. He writes them because he needs to. He writes them because he worries he may never let them get into the world again. 

* 

The sunrise never looks as beautiful in the sky as it does on Seonghwa’s skin. A pink brush stroke turns Seonghwa’s back into light tan, and Hongjoong kisses along its path, eager to taste. 

Seonghwa hums happily, turns onto his side and pulls Hongjoong to his warm body.

“You smell amazing,” Seonghwa says against Hongjoong’s hair. Hongjoong doesn’t have time to respond to how ridiculous that sounds because Seonghwa’s hand is in his boxers and wrapping around him with a pressure that’s so perfect it makes Hongjoong grow pliant. It’s a gift they’ve perfected, and Hongjoong tucks his face into Seonghwa’s neck, grips onto his bicep as Seonghwa moves his hand excruciatingly slow. 

“More,” Hongjoong whispers, desperate for more, and Seonghwa’s chuckle is sleep-laden and dark. 

Seonghwa hums, “Are you going to beg?”

Hongjoong scrambles in response, which has him ending up in a tangle of limbs with Seonghwa, and to Hongjoong’s delight, they both have their hands in each other’s pants at the same time. He squeezes firmly, just like Seonghwa loves, leaning in to nibble at the stubble on his chin.

“Are you above begging?” Hongjoong asks. Seonghwa throws his head back onto the pillow and shakes his head. 

“Yes, please,” he says. His voice is reedy and wonderful, throaty and deep, and fuck Hongjoong doesn’t want to stop either, moves his wrist faster despite the discomfort of elastic and the odd angle. 

They continue, their arms bumping and breath mingling, their moans growing louder in the new dawn, and Hongjoong revels in it, gives into the feeling. Because right now, in this moment, it’s only them, it’s only now, and it could be their last. 

* 

Hongjoong rarely lets anyone go to the studio with him. It’s too private, too much. He doesn’t want anyone to see when he stumbles to find the right note, how he has to work for hours to find the right beat. 

But today he asks Seonghwa if he’ll come. 

“Of course,” Seonghwa says, running a towel through his newly showered hair. Hongjoong despairs a little at the thought they couldn’t do that together. Hopes for a future where they can. 

It’s a small space, a closet really, but it’s Hongjoong’s haven. It’s a little bit of privacy he can allow himself, and Seonghwa settles into a corner and listens, says nothing at all. 

Then Hongjoong plays a new song he’s been working on, something he’s not entirely sure he’ll even let the company know about. But he wants Seonghwa to know about it, and he plays it, his voice filling the room, wobbly with emotion. 

He thinks to himself, _this is for you. I made this for you._

He wants it to say, _I can’t say it out loud but you mean as much to me as all the stars in the sky. As big as the moon._

He hopes it tells Seonghwa, _I love you, I love you, I love you._

Hongjoong can’t look at Seonghwa while he plays the song. He’s fixated on his laptop, his hand wrapped into a fist, and when he finally has the courage to glance behind him, Seonghwa’s face is in his hands. 

Hongjoong’s stomach falls to his feet. 

“Hyung?” he whispers, jumps from his rolling chair and onto his knees in two seconds flat. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean—”

Seonghwa removes his hands from his face, his eyes wet, his cheeks streaked with his tears. His damp hands cup Hongjoong’s face and he leans in for a kiss, tender and wonderful. He parts his lips a little, and Hongjoong does the same, allowing Seonghwa to curl his tongue into Hongjoong’s mouth. Hongjoong tastes tears. 

“Thank you,” Seonghwa whispers against Hongjoong’s lips. And then, when Hongjoong thinks he’s done speaking, he adds, “I do, too.”

That’s when Hongjoong’s tears come.

* 

They’re at dance practice, on what feels like the hundredth round of their debut song for their comeback. Who knows when it’ll happen, if they will even ever be able to show it to their fans. Hongjoong misses the screams of Atiny, misses the fan chants. He misses touring. 

He misses fan meets, misses dancing for an audience. He misses the absolute awe Atiny has for them, how their support shows in the circular glow of the light sticks. Hoongjoong would give anything to have that again.

Except for what happens when he leaves the practice space. 

Seonghwa is standing outside, looking up at the stars. His hair is sticking to his temples, his hands shoved inside of a pair of track pants Hongjoong doesn’t remember him having. They clung to his ass during practice, which was a bit distracting, but Hongjoong prevailed. He got through with only one mishap. 

Everyone’s already gone back to the dorm, but Seonghwa is still here, staring up at the velvety night sky speckled with stars. 

“It’s clear tonight,” Seonghwa says, and Hongjoong follows his gaze and hums. It’s a rare moment in Seoul, but he’ll take it. He’ll take anything if it’s with Seonghwa. 

“Yeah, it is.” 

“I miss traveling,” Seonghwa says. “I miss seeing the stars in other places.”

“They’re still the same stars,” Hongjoong says, staring up at the sky and trying hard to map out Orion’s belt. With the light pollution of the city, it’s impossible.

“They may be the same stars, but they’re not the same where we’re standing,” Seonghwa says, his voice heavy with what sounds like wistfulness. He turns to Hongjoong and says, “I wish I could kiss you under them in every place we visit.” 

This is new. The overt statement, and Hongjoong looks to his left and right, and stands on his tiptoes like a ridiculous rom-com, and kisses Seonghwa. It lights him up inside, illuminating him in white, and his knees feel weak when he finally sets his feet to the ground. 

Seonghwa’s eyes sit half-lidded, and he cups Hongjoong’s face, brushes his thumb over his cheek. Later they blow each other in the bedroom, first Seonghwa, then Hongjoong. 

Hongjoong takes his time, lavishes affection on Seonghwa with such precision it leaves Seonghwa panting and breathless. Hongjoong does something he’s never done before, tracing his fingertip over the crease on Seonghwa’s thigh to hip, until he’s reached his ass. Seonghwa spreads his legs further apart, an open invitation, and Hongjoong doesn’t know what he’s doing, but he knows what he’d want. 

He brushes a fingertip between Seonghwa’s asscheeks, and Seonghwa chokes out a pretty loud moan before grabbing for a pillow, and covering his face, his hips bucking up and filling Hongjoong’s mouth with his come. Hongjoong pulls back, making a mess. He feels embarrassed but Seonghwa doesn’t seem to notice a damn thing, his body starfished on his small bed, arm thrown over his eyes. 

“I hope,” Hongjoong says after they’ve cleaned up and when they’re curled up against each other naked, the sheets pooled around their sweaty bodies. “I can kiss you all over the world too.” 

* 

They work and prepare, and their comeback is happening. They go over the concept, and they record, and they learn new choreography. Hongjoong’s heart is in his throat when the company gives everything the green light, and when he looks at Seonghwa, he sees his eyes are shimmering like a star. 

They’re ready, and Hongjoong knows he’ll be able to handle anything with Seonghwa by his side. 

**Author's Note:**

> come find me on tumblr @ buildyourwalls


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